Establishing A Family

The family I was born into had its beginnings as the world was thrown into commotion as World War II broke out. Like a tornado, it ripped people up from their roots and set them down somewhere else, in a place often very foreign to them. My parents fell in love and were married during this great upheaval. They courted at home in Utah, married in the state of Washington and moved around the nation where ever the duties of a soldier took them. My two eldest brothers, Jim and Bill, were born in these war years and lived the first years of their lives in many different homes without their father being able to be with them much of the time. These were years of trial and poverty. Yet, since there were so many living this way, it was accepted as the way it must be. When this great upheaval of events finally ended, many things could get back to "normal," but there was much of opportunities lost and things that could never be the same again. The lost years when my father might have been a missionary and received a higher education were gone forever. He had a family to support, no savings and had to build a career upon the foundation of experiences gained growing up during The Great Depression immediately followed by serving as a soldier through the long years of World War II. My mother had grown up fatherless herself and had lived a life of hardship also. She was only nineteen years old when she married my dad. This young couple began their life together with no material possessions to speak of and lived on the lowest of a soldiers wages all through the war. Faith, family, determination and hard work got them through these early years of marriage. But then, that had been true of their parents too, and for many generations before. When the war finally ended, a new spirit of hope and optimism emerged. Families could finally be reunited. Children had their fathers again and wives had their husbands. By the time a third son, Lynn, was added to the family, my parents prepared to build a home and "put down roots." The community my parents chose to live in was a little farm town with the Weber River running through it. It was called Riverdale. There was one church, one school, a gas station, and a couple of other businesses. Mom and Dad bought a piece of property on the point of a hill overlooking the farms and fields stretching toward the river. This property also had a commanding view of the city of Ogden to the east nestled up against the Wasatch mountain range, topped by the majestic Mount Ogden. My ancestors were among the first pioneers to settle in Ogden after the long trek west. My parents set to work building this home themselves using war surplus jeep crates as forms for the foundation walls. Building materials were scarce after the war, so Dad used many salvaged or previously used items to build our home. It was a big home by current standards and a very ambitious project; but Dad was not intimidated by the task, even though he had no formal training or education. Progress was slow and tedious as many things were learned "the hard way." I was the next child born to this family of boys. When I was born in 1956, several more neighbors had joined my family on "the hill." Our little town was growing rapidly both in numbers of homes and numbers of children being born to the families in these homes. The road in front of our home which lead to the school and church became known as "kid lane." Though our home was still a "work in progress," as I was growing up, we were safe and sheltered from the weather and had warmth in the winter. Doors for our bedrooms, carpet and blinds or curtains for the windows would come years later. Our long, steep driveway up the hill was dirt when it was dry and mud when it was wet. We had a lawn to play on, a vegetable garden, fruit trees and some ornamental shrubbery and trees which were recent additions at the time of my childhood. We also had more weeds than could be pulled by a whole army. The next addition to our family of boys was another son, Mark. He and I would share a bedroom and grow up together in the years that followed. We fought and tormented each other frequently but were also the best of friends. He and I were a little more than two years apart; so we had a close relationship and similar interests Finally, my only sister, Julie, was born. She was the last child to join this family. She loved all the things which we boys loved; but she also loved being a girl and doing "girl things." I think she got the best of both worlds. The family was now complete with two loving parents, five sons and one lovely, baby daughter. We were all healthy most of the time, very active and rambunctious and constantly stretched our parents' patience and the limits of their energy. We were very aware that many people around us owned more of the material things of this world than we did; but we also knew that there were many less fortunate than ourselves. We loved our home, our neighbors, our church and our community. We were thankful for our pioneer heritage and to be citizens of a great nation, who's freedom our father had fought to preserve. As children, we had the peace and security of knowing we had a father and mother who loved us and were 100% devoted to our happiness and success in life. If all children in the world had parents like ours, what a wonderful world it would be! Terry Stephens